


You're Not A Disappointment

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Sick Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt;</p><p>In which Mycroft appears at the police station being ostentatiously powerful and I-Actually-Run-The-Country on numerous occasions, having arguments with Sherlock, who won't tell anyone who he is.</p><p>One day Sherlock does something particularly risky, or works himself to the point of collapse, and Mycroft slaps him. Hard. Lestrade sees it out of context and is immediately all "OK TOO FAR I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE BACK OFF GRRRR THAT'S OUR FREAK YOU'RE MESSING WITH" and Sherlock is all "Er, he's sort of my brother. It's fine. We do this all the time. Um. Lestrade? You can let go of his arm now."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not A Disappointment

Sherlock straightened up from where he was bent over a corpse and growled under his breath. He knew who was approaching by the sound of the individual's footfalls.

“Yes Mycroft,” he spat. “What can I do for you?” Sherlock didn't look up from the young man in front of him, he couldn't be bothered to face the interfering git.

The government official cocked his head to the side, taking in the crime scene. “Isn't this case a bit beneath you, brother-mine?”

“It's this or cocaine, Mycroft,” he turned towards him at last. “If you honestly want me to go home and get high, I can oblige.”

“You will not use cocaine under my roof Sherlock, not fresh out of rehab.”

“I don't have to stay under your roof,” the detective hissed, “In fact, I think I'll move out tonight. I honestly can't stand your pompous attitude a minute longer.” Sherlock's voice had risen slightly at the end.

Lestrade turned, looking over his shoulder, “Oi! What's going on here?” He started walking in their direction. “And who the hell are you?”

“Don't worry about me Detective Inspector. Just insure you keep at least half an eye on Mr. Holmes here, I've heard he can be a bit of trouble.”

Greg's arms came up to cross over his chest and he gave Sherlock a side long glance. He'd seen the detective look irritated before, hell, all a person had to do was breathe too loud in his presence to earn a verbal evisceration, but there was something different this time and the DI didn't like it. Not at all.

“How do you know my name?”

“Oh, Gregory, what a pointless question,” he turned to Sherlock. “Well, you make sure you're a good boy for the inspector.”

Sherlock's lip curled and he was about to make a snarky reply when a wave of dizziness swept over him. He forced it away by sheer act of will, unwilling to show weakness in front of Mycroft. It was probably the fact he hadn't eaten in a couple of days. It definitely had nothing to do with the blue substance from the victim's lips that he had tasted earlier.

The detective had no idea what happened, but the next thing he was aware of was waking up horizontal, Mycroft crouched over him, concern flickering through those dark grey eyes.

“Get off of me, Mycroft,” he spat, though with slightly less venom than normal.

Mycroft looked at him, noticing his increased pallor. He placed his fingers over Sherlock's pulse point and frowned, it wasn't as strong as it should be and it was a bit sluggish. His hand shifted to grasp Sherlock by the collar and he pulled him close so they were face to face. “What have you done?”

Sherlock struggled for a moment, but realised that he wasn't getting out of his brother's grip.

“My job!” He snapped with no real bite.

Mycroft tightened his grip on Sherlock's collar as he tried to pull away. He gave his brother a shake. “Sherlock...”

A hand closed on Mycroft's shoulder and jerked him around. The government official found himself looking into the angry face of DI Lestrade.

“Get off him.”

“Why? It's clear he's done something to be in this predicament.”

“Myc-” Sherlock tried.

“Shut it, Sherlock, unless you're willing to tell me what exactly you've taken…”

“I haven't taken anything!” The detective managed to wrench away from his brother's grip. “It's not always about that!”

“Really?” Mycroft looked very sceptical and very angry. “Then what is it about?” He reached out an arm in his brother's direction, intent on recapturing him.

That's when one link of the handcuffs snapped around his wrist.

“What the-” Mycroft was pulled up by Lestrade and another officer as Sherlock watched on slightly bewildered.

The detective grudgingly got to his feet.

“I don't know who you think you are and, frankly, I don't care. You could be God himself, but you won't treat one of my people this way!” He kept on talking over Mycroft's abortive efforts to speak. “The victim was poisoned, yeah?”

Sherlock was so shocked at seeing the treatment Mycroft was receiving, that he forgot to say 'obviously'. Instead, he uttered a slightly bemused, “Quite so.”

Greg sighed, still ignoring Mycroft. “And you tasted it.”

Once again Sherlock wasn't quite sure what happened next. Suddenly both the police officers had been knocked to the side, and Greg, so caught up in helping Sherlock, hadn't cuffed Mycroft's other wrist. His brother had reached for him again and once more held his collar. “You stupid moron.”

This time, Sherlock didn't try to answer, he tried to land a punch. His aim was off, however, due to the poison in his system and his punch went wide.

Lestrade jumped onto Mycroft's back and wrestled him away from the detective. He groped for the handcuffs. Finally catching hold of them, he wrestled Mycroft's other wrist into them and snapped them shut.

“Let me go!” The government official lost his temper; an exceedingly rare event. “I'll have your job.”

“That's what all the criminals say,” Greg replied blandly.

“I'm not a criminal, I'm the British Government.”

The DI's mouth twitched into a grin. “Yeah, aren't you just.”

Sherlock boggled. “You really have no idea who he is, do you?”

Lestrade looked from one to the other as if he was missing something.

“He's my brother. And he really is the British Government.”

Greg's mouth must have had a mind of its own as it opened and spouted forth, “This is the interfering, pompous, arrogant, controlling, narcissistic bastard you've mentioned?”

Mycroft, for once, stayed silent.

Sherlock frowned at the older man for a moment. “Couldn't you tell?” The younger Holmes smiled, though it was a bit off. “You see, but you do not observe.” He fell back to the ground, landing squarely on his arse. “You really should let him go. He just worries about me. Constantly.” He paused. “And maybe you should call an ambulance.”

With that Sherlock was out cold once again.

“Get these God damn cuffs off me right now, or I will be responsible for you losing your job.”

The DI set about releasing him and Mycroft immediately rushed to his brother's side. “Well do what he says, get an ambulance!”

Greg flinched, but did as Mycroft had requested, no, ordered. He shook his head the whole time he put in the call. Honestly, the way Sherlock had gone on about his brother, what with the “He runs the British Government” and all, he had almost wondered if the man really existed.

What Sherlock had failed to mention was that Mycroft Holmes, despite running the British Government really did care for his little brother. Greg watched as Mycroft knelt and gathered Sherlock's head into his lap as he checked for his pulse. He rolled him to the side just in time for Sherlock to be violently sick.

The DI felt a little pang of guilt. “Um, sorry about the whole interfering bastard thing.”

Mycroft grimaced. “Think nothing of it. I know it's how he feels about me.”

“Yeah, but...”

Sherlock groaned and blinked open his eyes, finally focusing on his brother. “I don't know why I say those things, Myc.”

“Because you're angry with me.”

“That's...” Sherlock's stomach heaved again. When he could speak once more, he finished, “Only because I know you're right.” He took his brother's hand. “And it's easier not to be disappointed in myself if I can blame you for everything.”

Greg felt like an intruder so backed away. He shooed the other officer's back as well, trying to give them some privacy.

“You're not a disappointment, 'Lock. I suppose I should have said it before, I'm proud of everything you've accomplished. I know it wasn't easy.”

When the ambulance arrived, Mycroft reluctantly stepped back to allow the paramedics to work. Soon Sherlock was lifted into the ambulance on a stretcher. He called out and reached out his hand. “Mycroft?”

The government official climbed in beside his brother, trying to stay out of the way, but Sherlock reached for him, so he moved closer. His hand was snagged in this brother's and they didn't let go.


End file.
